


Terms and Conditions

by UnabashedBird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King!Sam, Episode Related, Episode: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedBird/pseuds/UnabashedBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam embraces his powers, but the way he uses them isn't exactly what the demons had in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms and Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr user merryxmassammy/centuriesofsam as part of the Bitter Sam Girl Club Secret Santa.

Ava was right. The power is incredible, the possibilities endless, once he opens himself up to it.

He did it because it was him or Jake, and he tried, he tried so damn hard, to convince Jake not to fight, but in the end he didn’t have a choice. Dean will understand; Sam will make him understand. Dean has to understand. Dean _has to be_ alive out there and he _will_  understand.

“Oh, _Sammy_. I was so hoping it would be you."

He turns, slowly, to face the monster that killed his mother, killed Jess, put poison inside him and forced him to play this terrible game. He feels a tug, like calling to like, and knowledge of what he can do, what he must do, blossoms in his mind.

Sam looks into those sulphur-yellow eyes and smiles. Let it think it’s won, let it think he belongs to it now. Let it, drunk on victory, make mistakes.

“What do you say, Sam? Want to help me harrow hell?"

So whatever it is involves getting into hell. All he needs now is the where and the how, and he won’t need this murderous piece of shit anymore.

“I say lead the way."

“What? Just like that? Not that I’m not pleased, Sammy, but why the change of heart?"

Sam smiles his most murderous smile. “Let’s just say that, now that I know what real power is, I have no intention of ever giving it up."

The demon stares at him, calculating, then reaches out, lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and they are somewhere else.

“Where are we?” Sam asks, looking around and seeing nothing familiar.

“As close to our goal as I can take you,” the demon answers, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the Colt. Sam’s eyebrows knit together in confusion when the demon hands it to him.

“Why would you give me this? Why would you trust me not to kill you with it?"

“Oh, I don’t. See, I believe you want power, but I also believe you’re smart enough to think that I might eventually stand between you and it, which is why some of my people grabbed Dean and Bobby—they showed up just as we left, did I mention that?"

Relief washes through Sam. Dean is alive.

“Prove it. Prove that they’re alive and that you have them."

Yellow Eyes smiles his predatory smile, vanishes, and reappears with Dean and Bobby, each flanked by two demons. Five demons, one bullet in the gun. Smart, but not smart enough.

“Sam? You OK?” Dean’s voice is raw with relief and worry.

“I’m peachy,” Sam says, knowing Dean will hear and hate the detachment in his voice, but he can’t worry about that right now. He has a job to do.

He turns back to Yellow Eyes. “OK, so I’m not shooting anybody right now. What’s the gun for, then?"

“Tricky man, that Samuel Colt. Poetic justice that you have the same name, I think. That’s not just a gun, it’s a key, a key to a very important lock, one that it just so happens I can’t get to. You go in, put the key in the lock, and you’ll have an army to help you gain more of that power you’re enjoying so much."

“Sammy, no!” Dean cries.

Sam suppresses a shudder at the nickname. When this is over, he and Dean are going to have a conversation, and its outcome is going to be very different from the last one.

“Anything else I need to know?” Sam asks, ignoring Dean and Bobby for now; he knows this is what he must do.

“Nope. Easy peasy, kiddo."

Sam smiles, relishing the flicker of fear he sees in those hated yellow eyes right before he slams his power into all five demons, holding them in place. He uses his mind to bring the small knife hidden in Dean’s boot to his hand.

“Sammy, Sammy, think carefully about what you’re doing,” Yellow Eyes says, his calm a facade.

“Believe me, I am,” Sam says, makes a cut in the demon’s throat, and drinks.

Bobby and Dean are yelling at him, but the demons still hold them, and he holds the demons. They do not understand now, but they will. He will make them understand.

This much blood should not physically fit in his stomach, yet it does, because this is magic and power racing rushing singing through his veins he drinks until the body is drained and then he makes a fist and he squeezes and the thing that made him a freak and killed his family and the woman he loved dies because he wills it.

He throws the body to the ground, turns to the others. “Tell them I’m coming for them,” Sam coldly tells the four demons, and pulls them out and sends them back to hell. The people they were possessing drop, and Sam goes to check whether any of them are alive while Dean and Bobby stand frozen, staring at him in horror.

“They’re all alive,” Sam tells them. “You should find the nearest road, get them help."

“Sam. Sammy, you can stop now. You killed him. You can stop.” Dean is afraid; Dean has always been afraid of what is different, of what he does not understand.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“What?” His big brother, so bewildered and so afraid.

“Why should I stop? Don’t you see? I’m more powerful than them. I can fix it, fix it all. I can make them obey. Why would I stop, when I can do so much good?"

“Not like this, Sam. Not if you have to change, have to stop being human,” Dean insists.

“Humanity doesn’t have the corner on goodness and morality, Dean. Or have you already forgotten Lenore? Change and growth are healthy. I’m becoming what they’ve been trying to make me since the night they killed Mom, but I’m doing it on _my_  terms, and I am going to make them pay."

“Dean.” Bobby looks at Sam while he speaks, eyes hard. “Dean, let’s go. We got civilians to take care of.” Sam wishes he could be grateful to Bobby for accepting what he is doing, but he suspects that this is more giving up than acceptance. Bobby is trying to cut his losses.

“Bobby, no! We can’t just let him—"

“Sam’s made his choice, Dean. He says he’s doing this, I don’t reckon we can stop him. So I’m gonna help the civilians. You with me?"

Sam wishes there was a way to relieve the anguish in Dean’s eyes, but he sees now: his brother’s fear is not his fault, and he cannot let it hold him back anymore.

“Sammy, please."

“It’s Sam,” he tells him, and takes the keys to the car parked nearby off of Yellow Eyes’ corpse. It’s time to harrow hell.

 

They are waiting for him when he opens the door, but holding them all back takes little effort. He checks to make sure he can open the door from the inside, then pulls it closed behind him, and descends.

Here, in their natural habitat, he sees the demons for what they are, and it comes as a punch to the gut. Twisted human souls. They were human, once. Sam feels sick, but he remembers his purpose, remembers that he is here to change things, and he continues, deeper and deeper into the Pit.

It’s hot and it stinks and there are screams and cries and groans coming from all directions. He reminds himself that most people end up in hell for a reason, yet can’t help but wonder if any but the Hitlers of the world really deserve this.

Power is everywhere down here, flickering from all directions, but there is a hub of it, tugging at him, and he knows that is where he must go. _Further down and further in_ , he thinks, and smiles wryly.

A few try to block his path, but he brushes them aside as easily as swatting flies. They gave him this power; they have only themselves to blame for not realizing how he might use it.

Eventually, he reaches the level from which the power emanates. There is a throne, flanked by guards, and on it lounges a monstrous woman. She smiles at him.

“Azazel wasn’t kidding when he said you were a fast learner, though I don’t think this is quite the outcome he had in mind when he picked you as his favorite."

So that was Yellow Eyes’ name. “More fool him,” Sam says coldly.

She laughs. He thinks there might be fear in that laugh. “What is it you want here, Sam? You’ve taken Azazel’s power. Do you want his position, as well?"

“And what position was that, exactly?"

“My second-in-command, of course,” she purrs.

“So you’re the big boss around here, huh?"

“For now."

She says it like a promise, and it sends shivers down his spine. He senses another big plan, more fucked-up destiny behind her words. One way or another, he is going to put an end to it.

Sam notices the huge dog-forms lying in heaps around the throne. Hellhounds. He reaches for them tentatively with an exploratory tendril of power, and is surprised by what he finds: though infernal, in personality they are truly canine. And they fear the woman on the throne. Perhaps he can make them a better offer.

“You worried about a revolt?” Sam asks scornfully.

“Hardly. More a . . . long-anticipated transition of leadership. But there will be plenty of time to talk about that once we get you settled. You are staying, aren’t you? Oh, but where are my manners, expecting you to serve me when I haven’t even introduced myself properly. I’m Lilith, Lucifer’s First."

“First what?"

“Demon, of course. Besides the few that fell with him and eventually became demons of a different sort, I’m the oldest of us there is, and I was made special by our Lord the Morningstar. You didn’t think I was in charge just because of my good looks, did you?"

“No, I didn’t,” Sam says levelly, processing the information. She was in charge, but subordinate to Lucifer, and he believed that she believed in him. Planned transfer of power . . . hadn’t he read somewhere, some obscure book of lore, that Lucifer was unable to leave hell? Was it possible that he was so deep in hell that not even his followers could get to him? But what locked him up? _The few that fell with him_  . . . Angels. Maybe even God.

Lilith watches appraisingly as Sam squats down and extends his hands to the nearest hellhounds. They sniff and let him pet their heads, and he sends them images of sunlight and wind and running through grass and living without fear. It gets their attention, which gets the others' attention, and soon Sam is surrounded by hesitant, curious, love-starved dogs, and he touches as many of them as he can, stroking backs and scratching ears, passing along a promise.

"My pets like you," Lilith observes. "Azazel didn't have much patience for them, but I could make you master of the hunt if you wanted. So what do you say, Sam? Ready to fulfill your destiny?"

Sam stands. "Yes," and pins Lilith to her throne with his power. Her guards react, but the hounds are his now, and they hold them at bay. He begins to squeeze.

"Wait!" Lilith pants in desperation. "You don't know . . . this isn't . . . you can't!"

"Clearly, I can," Sam says in steely tones, and finishes it. The woman on the throne dissolves into smoke and dissipates.

"No!" one of the guards screams, and runs at Sam, but another grabs her and stops her before the hounds have to.

"Ruby, stop! There's no point throwing your life away." Sam knows that voice.

"He killed her! He's ruined everything! Lucifer can't rise now!" The demon, Ruby, is hysterical.

The other demon, the one Sam knows as Meg, shakes Ruby by the shoulders. "Get a grip if you want to live! Don't you see? The queen is dead." Meg turns to Sam. "Long live the king."

"Why?" he asks coldly.

"Because I like living, and killing you won't bring back Lilith or my father. Besides, you haven't torn up the script completely: we were supposed to follow you. Not quite like this, sure, but I stopped crying over spilled milk a long time ago, you know?"

"Better than most," Sam says.

"So, your highness, what would you have of me?" she asks with a mocking bow.

"You can't be serious," Ruby interrupts.

"If you have a death wish that's not my problem," Meg snaps. "Otherwise, it's not like you weren't going to be spending your time dancing to his tune anyway."

Sam is intrigued, but he doubts it’s urgent. He approaches and sits on the throne, finally facing the audience he felt growing at his back from the moment he arrived.

There is power in the throne, too; projecting his voice into every corner of the Pit is easy. "Greetings. In case any of you don't know who I am, my name is Sam Winchester, and I'm here to make some new rules. You don't have to like them, and you don't have to like me, but I will demand your obedience."

He knows everyone is listening, because the background cacophony of tortured souls has stopped.

"First, all the souls freed from their contracts by Lilith's death—" he felt the contracts burn and understood as it happened "—will be free to leave, to make their way to better climes as best they can. Second, children are off limits from now on, for possession or deals or mischief of any kind. Third, there is to be no more possession of innocents. The people you ride had better have earned it in some way, or you'll have me to answer to. Are there any questions?"

Silence. Then a young demon sparking with outrage cries out, "Yeah! Who the fuck are you to—" He is cut off as Sam kills him with a thought.

“Anyone else care to question the king’s authority?” Meg calls. Sam doesn’t let his surprise show on his face. He doesn’t trust her yet, but it looks as though, at least for now, she really is taking his side. Now he can begin.

Solidifying his power and ensuring his new rules are being followed takes time, though he can’t say how much. Long enough that he thinks he should have gotten hungry or thirsty, but he doesn’t. Meg and Ruby quickly become his right and left hands, and it’s them he trusts to recruit lieutenants. The hellhounds follow him everywhere, and he gives them love and attention, and they give him fierce devotion.

Eventually, Sam is satisfied that things are operating the way he wants them to, and will continue to do so if he goes topside. He brings Meg and Ruby with him, instructing them to find unoccupied meatsuits and report back to him as quickly as possible. When they emerge, he has the strange experience of seeing them both as they are and as the clouds of black smoke as which they appear to most humans on the mortal plane.

Dean is there, waiting. Sam uses his mental connection with the hounds to give them permission to run and play while he talks to Dean, finds out where he stands. He does not regret what he’s done, but now that the work is over, he worries about the consequences to his relationship with his brother.

Dean just stares, expression raw with hurt and betrayal. “How long was I gone?” Sam asks.

“You left us at the border about eight hours ago."

Huh. So there was a significant time differential, but his body had still been operating on upstairs time. Fascinating.

“Sammy—"

“Let’s get one thing straight right now,” Sam interrupts, his anger flaring. “It’s Sam. I mean it, Dean: I’m tired of being treated like my preferences don’t matter just because I’m the younger brother. You want me to keep talking to you, call me Sam."

Dean stares. “Sure, whatever. You gonna tell me what the hell is going on, _Sam_?"

Sam shrugs. “Azazel—that’s the yellow-eyed demon—set up this horrible competition for all the kids with powers. It’s been going on for months. Ava was there—she decided she wanted to survive, so she embraced her powers, killed the others as they came. We figured it out, but not til after she killed another girl and Andy. Jake killed her because she didn’t give us a choice. But then he came after me, and I used my powers and killed him because he didn’t give _me_  a choice. See, Azazel came to each of us in our dreams and told us that the only way we were getting out alive was if we were the only one left. I tried to convince Jake that we shouldn’t play Azazel’s game, but the demon had leverage and Jake wouldn’t listen."

“OK. And you going vamp on Yellow Eyes?"

Sam hesitates. Dean understands survival, understands me or them situations. This will be harder, especially after all those things Gordon Walker said. After what Dad said.

“He showed me . . . in a dream he showed me what happened the night he killed Mom. He fed me his blood, Dean. It’s why I am the way I am: I’ve had demon blood in me pretty much my whole life. And once I opened myself up to my power . . . I just knew. I knew that if I drank his blood, I would be more powerful than him, more powerful than any of them. I knew I could beat them, could do real good. And I was right, Dean. Our whole lives, we’ve been after that demon, and I killed him. And then I went into hell, and a demon named Lilith was in charge, and I killed her too. I made them listen to me, and I changed things. There are new rules. Hell has to exist, but fewer people are going to get hurt now. And I’m so strong, Dean. I’ll be able to save so many more people, I know it.”

“But it’s evil, Sammy.”

The hellhounds snarl thunderously, and Dean’s eyes go wide with terror.

“Sorry,” he spits. “But it’s evil, _Sam_.”

“Why?”

“Because it comes from demons! Because it’s hell! Look how twisted up it’s got you, you can’t even see how far gone you are!”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “You really can’t see it, can you? I tore up their script, Dean! I took what they gave me and I used it against them, and I’m going to keep using it against them by saving and protecting as many people as I can. If you can’t accept that . . .” Sam feels tears building in his eyes, threatening to spill over, “then I guess we’re done.”

“Just like that?” Dean asks, voice cold.

“It’s not what I want. I want you with me, I want to be brothers. But I’m doing this, so it’s your choice. Take me as I am, or leave me alone. Or I suppose there’s always door number three: do like Dad asked and try to kill me. Not that that’ll go so well for you, but hey, you’ve never let that stop you before.”

“Fuck you, _Sam_ ,” Dean says, turns on his heel, and storms off to the Impala. He pulls Sam’s duffel from the trunk, throws it on the ground, and drives away. The dogs whine, and the ones closest to Sam nudge his hands. He sniffs, wipes a hand over his eyes, walks to his duffel, and waits for Meg and Ruby to rejoin him.

 

He goes back to school. Meg and Ruby handle most of the running of hell for him, and eventually they build enough trust that he doesn’t require them to report everything. He still looks for hunts, and thanks to his power and their ability to teleport him places, most take hardly any time. He has pairs of hellhounds guarding the people he loves, while the rest rove the earth as a general sort of supernatural protection detail; the rest except for the few he always keeps with him, that sleep in a heap in his bed with him and come on runs with him and generally just behave like dogs. They all love him, and he rotates the ones who are with him so that they can all have a turn and none are left out.

Bobby gets back in touch after a few months. Sam is aware he was watched and checked up on, but since he knew they were Bobby’s people, he let it happen. Bobby apologizes, says he jumped the gun, Sam seems fine, seems happier than Bobby’s ever seen him, and from everything Bobby and Ellen hear from the hunting community, the world really is getting safer.

Sam does not hear from Dean, despite Bobby’s promises to work on him. He tries not to think about how much he misses his brother.

He gets into law school. Reconnects with old friends and makes new ones. Starts dating. It’s not a bad life.

Bobby comes to graduation. And when he finds Sam after the ceremony, next to him is Dean, wearing a shit-eating grin and opening with, “So the ruler of hell is gonna be a lawyer, huh? Man, the jokes just write themselves.”

Scratch that, it’s a damn good life.


End file.
